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I thought I knew where all the great Chinese dining rooms were in NSW. From Liu Rose in North Strathfield, with its coral-pink walls, cushioned bar and pristine timber carvings, to Golden Sea Dragon in Coonabarabran and its kaleidoscopic ceiling. In Blackheath, there’s Ho’s Palace, which looks like a set from The Man with the Golden Gun, and the Hong Kong business-centre trappings of Moree’s New Bo Wa, featured in Lin Jie Kong and Jennifer Wong’s excellent Chopsticks or Fork? series on the ABC.

Bowral’s Shanghai Chinese, however, is a new discovery, even though I’ve walked past its Bong Bong Street door dozens of times on trips to the Southern Highlands. From the outside, it looks like any modest Australian Chinese restaurant: green tiles, frosted windows and that Westernised calligraphy font, which has become the international sign for “Yes, we have honey chicken”.

Inside, it’s a soft-lit capsule of longevity symbols, floral wallpaper and red lanterns, an all-are-welcome time-warp of scalloped tablecloths, CorningWare plates and two stunning artworks in lightboxes. Stanley Kubrick would have approved of the glow. It’s the oldest surviving Chinese restaurant in Bowral, opened in the mid-1970s and now run by Teresa Wong, a calm presence on the floor. Her husband, Michael, has ruled the kitchen since the last owners figured it was time to retire about 12 months ago.

After two visits over a weekend in May, it has become one of my favourite places to eat spring rolls. At lunch, the only sounds come from an air-conditioner, the clang-clang of ladle on wok, and the quiet chat of two boys in suits – fresh from Holy Communion – sharing sizzling lamb with their mother and nan. The prawn toast tastes like prawn toast. The fried rice tastes like fried rice. The black vinegar pork ribs taste like a cinnamon doughnut.

Dinner is a more animated affair, largely thanks to a waitress who likes to sing along to Phil Collins, Abba and You Can Call Me Al. A group of local Rodd & Gunn enthusiasts are on their second bottle of Rockford Basket Press; an old bloke in tracksuit pants inhales some form of curry. Meanwhile, our table is into the xiao long bao dumplings – brothy little belters – and juicy, yielding pot-stickers.

At the end of a long carte ranging from “$45 Banquet A” to “Banana Fritter”, there’s a small collection of dishes handwritten in Mandarin – a handy go-to, Teresa says, for any Chinese tourists or expats less inclined to split a mixed entree and combination satay. We roll the dice on beef hor fun from this section and the wide noodles come out smoky, savoury and sweet, textured with the crunch of bean sprouts and spring onion. Good one.

Shandong chicken is a highlight, with vinegar-sharp skin and juicy-enough flesh under a foliage of coriander. Mapo tofu eats more like a Country Women’s casserole than anything from Sichuan, but it’s exactly what you want on a cold Bowral night. The fried ice-cream is as good as it gets.

Before Teresa and Michael took the keys, the dining room was shuttered for two months. Many locals were worried it wouldn’t reopen – a place of countless first dates, final birthdays and celebrations gone forever. Like the wonderful Chan’s Canton Village in Casula, which did permanently close last year, it’s the kind of place that invites calls of “It should be heritage-listed!” Maybe, but a listing can also bring about increased maintenance costs, and these Australian-Chinese institutions should function as restaurants, not museums. The best way to keep them alive? Stop in for a Crown Lager and ham roll when next in town.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine